Isn't It Crazy, We Finish Each Other's Sandwiches
by Kagetora no Tsume
Summary: Lunchtime at the Avengers home base is always a bit of an ordeal. Drabble. Humor. Full cast.


Not many of them cooked.

Honestly, not many of them prepared food in general.

Tony had always had robots to do those kinds of things for him, or a personal chef because he could afford it. Steve was in the military with provided meals for so long he had never really gotten the chance to learn. Clint could throw something together if need be, but it was his wife that did most of the cooking for his family. Natasha never learned - assassins had no use for such mundane skills. Sam and Rhody were both still living on the college diet – grab two things from the fridge, slap them in a tortilla, and eat it like a burrito. Vision didn't need to eat at all. Wanda knew how to cook a few things, but mostly it was Sokovian family dinners for two, and she would usually lose her appetite when faced with the missing second person's worth of leftovers, so she'd stopped cooking as well.

Normally for the Avengers group meals like dinner were ordered in, or consisted of something simple that could be made in bulk, like ramen or mac and cheese. Breakfast was cereal or fruit, which required no talent to make.

Lunch tended to be a free for all.

The fridge and pantry were always fully stocked, but no one seemed to have the drive to actually try making anything – even less so after a hard training session.

This, unfortunately, led to a lot of scavenging.

When one person finally got up the willpower to try and make something for lunch, it was only a matter of time until the others closed in, eyeing the plate and waiting patiently until the person turned their back.

Any food left unattended around lunch time was fair game, and it was rare for a person to walk away from their food for more than three seconds and come back to find their lunch untouched.

Steve was the rescuer of abandoned lunches. If your plate had been sitting out for more than ten minutes without anyone directly claiming it, he would finish it off.

Clint was the slick talker: "Hey, you gonna finish that?" "I thought you were on a diet this week." "You know there was a recall on pickles the other day…" "That wasn't the expired turkey, was it?" "Does that look like mold to you?" And he would gladly take the food off of your hands once he'd talked you out of finishing it.

Sam was the speed scarfer. The man could inhale a sandwich in record time, and if you stepped away from your plate for even a minute, your meal would be gone by the time you returned. Sam would be standing there like the world's most self-satisfied chipmunk, struggling to swallow as he grinned at you with a little guilt but no regret.

Tony, on the other hand, was completely shameless. He would walk right up to you and start a conversation, helping himself to your lunch as he chatted.

Rhody was the imposing but polite one. Instead of stealing your lunch, he would interrupt you halfway through your meal and ask if you could make him something too. Usually this request was accompanied by his most winning puppy eyes and an excuse about his age or physical condition. While you were preoccupied making his food, your own meal was left as fair game for the others.

Natasha was the hit and run bite taker. If you looked away from your plate for even one second you would turn back to find a bite missing from your sandwich or a handful of your chips gone. When you looked at her, however, she'd be sitting on the other side of the room, seemingly absorbed with some task, completely inconspicuous save for the chewing.

Wanda was probably the worst. Normally she would keep her hands off of your meal, but if she was hungry enough she would simply use her powers to suggest that you hand your food over to her. This had gotten her lectured by Steve a number of times but that didn't tend to phase her. She just gave him an apologetic, teary look until he sighed and forgave her.

Vision had no need to eat, however that didn't stop him from getting in on the chaos. Often, around lunch time, Vision would try his hand at preparing food and leave the results on the counter. He would then sit nearby and simply watch, judging his success based on the reactions of the others as they closed in on the plate like vultures.

He had discovered that leftover pizza with the leftover barbecue chicken and string cheese on it was a success. The chicken liver and cottage cheese sandwich, however, didn't go over quite as well. He was slowly compiling a database of what flavors worked well together, and as time went on he was having more successes than failures. Although, occasionally, he would put together some of the flavors that clashed just to see what the others would draw the line at.

So far the winning dish was ketchup and coffee ground soup.

No one had caught on to Vision's experiments yet, although a few of them were starting to eye him suspiciously whenever a plate of food would appear without anyone to claim it.

The extended team only tended to complicate the lunchtime scramble.

Peter was a highschooler, and most of his food preparation know-how consisted of "open package and heat for thirty seconds."

Scott was in the same boat as Rhody and Sam, being of the "throw something between two slices of bread and eat it" mentality.

T'challa had grown up with servants preparing meals, and had no idea how to do so himself.

What they lacked in cooking, however, they made up for in food theft proficiency.

Peter was fond of using his webs to snatch things off of other people's plates. His favorite move was standing in the hallway, webbing your half eaten sandwich, and taking off into the complex before you could catch him.

T'challa employed a diplomatic strategy. He was silver tongued when he set his mind to it, and never failed to convince you that there was most certainly enough food on your plate for two and that you should share it.

Scott was a professional thief. Nothing was safe from him. Nothing. Even if you took your food back to your room and locked the door, he would find a way to get it.

No one had figured out yet how he managed to do it. (Much to Sam's frustration.)

Of course, the defensive strategies that the Avengers employed were just as crazy and varied as the thieving methods.

Wanda was the hardest to steal from, because if you thought too hard about what you were doing she would pick up on your intent and throw a force field around her plate before you could get it. She seemed to get sick enjoyment out of watching people unintentionally ram their hands into an impenetrable wall.

Steve, on the other hand, was the easiest to swindle out of his meal. Sweet taking and pleading usually worked on the soft-hearted captain, and if that failed he was also fairly easy to distract.

Sam was vigilant, but was also single-task focused. If you got him talking, his food was as good as fair game. Of course, this did make taking his food a team effort.

Rhody would hover. He would eat crouched over his plate defensively, or half curled around it on the couch. He was distracted easily enough, however, and if you could get him watching television and slip up close to him he wouldn't even notice until it was too late.

Peter used an avoidance strategy. He would climb up somewhere high to eat so that the others couldn't reach him. Usually this meant on top of the cabinets or fridge, but on occasion he would simply suspend himself from the middle of the ceiling and laugh at the others as they glared up at him.

Clint was the across-the-room protector. If he stepped away from his plate, you had to watch out for perfectly-aimed projectiles of all kinds – everything from pillows and towels to shoes and the occasional bottle of ketchup. (Sam had been on the receiving end of that one, and Clint wound up performing the Heimlich maneuver on the choking and very bloody looking man, to Tony's horror.) If you could dodge, you could get his food, but Clint's aim always landed true.

T'challa had an air of threat about him. The kind of aura that promised trouble if you messed with his food. No one had tried directly stealing from him yet, however he had a bad tendency to walk away from his plate for long periods of time. He was the source of most of Steve's "rescued" lunches.

Natasha was quick. You had to move fast to get past her, and even then it wasn't likely that you'd get away again without a bruise or two. She would also remember who had taken her food, and would be sure to repay them in kind the next time they prepared themselves something to eat.

Tony really had no defense for his food, however he had discovered that whining whenever his food got taken was a decent deterrent. Sure, you could take his sandwich, no problem. So long as your were prepared to listen to his veiled threats and loud complaints for the next three hours. "It's not like I pay for all the food here or anything." "Really, the lack of gratitude." "You could be sent back to jail, Scott." "Wanda, I swear to God I will deport you." "Vision, you don't even need to eat! If you are doing this as a dare you are dead. Don't think I won't do it! I put you together and I can take you right back apart again, mister!" "Steeeeeeeeeeeeeve you are supposed to be my friend!"

Scott tended to simply vanish after preparing his food. Sam had a running theory that it had something to do with the shrinking disks and the Ant Man suit. Clint was of the opinion that Scott was just good at hiding and Sam was being paranoid.

Vision, of course, always set his test meals out with the intention of them being stolen, and planned on continuing that until someone stopped him.

Today, the surprise meal was popcorn and banana on rye with a drizzle of honey, and Vision was seated on the couch watching in anticipation, a smile on his face.

It had been about ten minutes, after all, and Steve was just starting to close in.


End file.
